An Awfully Big Adventure
by Sotto.La.Rosa
Summary: "There is nothing like looking, if you want to find something. You certainly usually find something, if you look, but it is not always quite the something you were after." The story of Moira who went looking for a home and found much more than she ever hoped to find.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! Thank you so much for taking the time to give my story a chance. I hope you won't regret it. This is my first attempt at a Hobbit FanFic. I am no master of all things Tolkien, nor will I pretend to be. If you notice anything incorrect or out of place, feel free to tell me. I am open to criticism and hope that you'll not feel in the least bit shy about voicing your opinions. I began this story in hopes of creating another narrative of events in the Hobbit and I want to know what you're thinking. Guesses, ideas, feelings. I want to know it all, so drop me a line and tell me how I'm doing.**

**-Alex**

It was just another day. Nothing special, new or different from the last, but Moira greeted it cheerfully and gladly, turning her face towards the morning sunshine, tracking the sun through the blue as it passed over the lip of the mountains to begin it's tranquil stroll to the peak of the sky. She smiled to herself as the quiet noises of day began to filter in through the small, round window she sat at – the only window in the warren she had managed to carve out and maintain. It was going to be a good day, she told herself. In all her time in the little house, she had experienced very few dark days, even when the rain was tapping at the door and the wind pushing at the window. Very few days had the darkness passed the threshold into her sanctuary.

She hummed to herself a half-remembered melody as she moved around the hearth, stirring the fire and preparing breakfast. She had no idea why, but today of all days, she could not help but to smile. Luca was far from the same. He shuffled quietly from the back room, trailing a blanket that had wrapped itself almost impossibly around his legs, rubbing sleep blearily from his eyes. His blond curls were a mess of wild, untamed entropy, forming a golden halo around his head in the lazy morning light. He pulled half-heartedly at the blankets, but when they showed no sign of letting go easily, he forsook the venture and curled up in the corner, prepared to drift off to sleep once more.

"Luca, you can't go to sleep on the floor," she teased, keeping her voice just short of her usual volume.

"Tan too," Luca mumbled, pulling the faded brown blanket up to his chin. Moira pulled herself away from the skillet, mentally keeping track of it as she passed over to her little brother, an even bigger smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

If she left him there, he _would_ go back to sleep. He'd proven that before. If he was tired enough, Luca could go to sleep anywhere: leaning in the corner, under the table, behind the hedge. Anywhere that was calm and quiet. She had lost track of him for whole afternoons at a time, frantically searching for him high and low, but lo and behold, he'd always turn up when she was at her wits end. Or when it was supper.

"Time to wake up, Luca." Moira crouched before him and tugged at a stray golden curl. He pulled the blanket higher and made a sound in the negative. She sat back on her heels, running her fingers through her hair. It needed to be washed. "Well then," she sighed, straightening – did her bones always creak like this – "I guess I'll just have all this food to myself. Too bad, too. I made hotcakes special this morning."

The blanket boulder shifted. "Wif bwoobewies?" came the muffled reply.

Her grin stretched wider. Victory was at hand. "Yes, with blueberries and honey and _cream_." She took a step toward the table as she listed off the treats. "But I guess, if you don't want any…" Luca stumbled into action, moving before he had detangled himself from the blanket. With the blanket still over his head, he managed to charge the woodpile, sending logs rolling, but – oh! – he was still moving, his momentum and sheer power of will lifting him over the havoc he had wrought on the unsuspecting kitchen, and right into Moira's turned back. "Luca," she laughed, not at all bothered by the mess, "carefully. The food's not going to run away." She tugged down the blanket from his face and kissed his forehead, giving him a gentle smack to the bottom to get him tootling off in the right direction, now able to see, but still somewhat inhibited by the blanket.

He pulled himself onto the upturned crate that served as the only chair in the small room – how he had missed it in the first place was laughable – and waited impatiently, his little legs thumping against the crate, as he was still too small to touch the ground.

Moira gently pulled a cake from the pan, setting it on the cracked china plate before Luca, ruffling his hair as she passed around him. "Ah!" she warned as his fork flashed out lightning quick, bringing the entire cake to his lips. "It's hot," she warned.

Luca eyed her warily and deliberately scooped the hotcake into his mouth with an obstinate _pop._ He was trying to be difficult this morning, but it did little to dampen Moira's mood. At this point, he was doing more harm to himself than anything else. She watched, and eyebrow arched in amusement as his stubborn face transformed into one of shock, a grimace of pain, and then steely determination to not back down. He burnt his tongue, alright**. **

"How is it?" she asked, trying to smooth her face as Luca squirmed in his chair.

"Hwot," he garbled, trying to speak around the burning mass of flour and fruit he had suspended in his mouth.

"I warned you!" she laughed, serving herself and putting the bowl of freshly whipped cream and strawberries onto the table before them. She ate standing up, her back to the little fire in the hearth behind her, and watched her brother's tortured little face. He finally managed to swallow and started to giggle, spraying the table with blueberry and cake. He clasped his hands over his mouth, trying to hold it all in, but his merry blue eyes shone as his shoulders shook even harder.

Moira pulled herself away to get Luca another hotcake, also giving the giggling boy a chance to gather some more control. She dropped it onto his plate and this time Luca took smaller bites, slathering the cake in the heavy whipped cream and fresh strawberries – an extravagant gift from their neighbors. Moira hated to admit it, but she was glad that they were so well looked after. On her own, she could never afford such special treats for them. After Andy… well, it was much easier to provide for all three of them with two working to put food on the table. It was much more of a struggle now with just her and Luca, especially as Luca was growing so quickly now – two inches in the past five months – that he would soon eat them out of house and home.

A lot had changed over the past – was it almost two years already? Luca's rounded belly was gone, replaced by a slimmer torso and knobby legs of a child, her toddler of a brother stretching out into someone more equipped to take on the world. He certainly was growing up! And what about herself? Had she not changed too? It was almost certain that she was different, she _felt_ different, but Moira could not put her finger on the exact difference. But she was glad of the change. It had been difficult when they first started out, but now, she hardly stumbled over unfamiliar words and she missed very little from their old life, or at least, that's what she told herself.

Moira was content with living in the present and though she had many challenges on a daily basis, she also had such blessings as she could never repay. So lost in thought, Moira almost missed Luca raising his arm to his mouth.

Almost.

"Freeze, mister!" Luca turned guilty blue eyes on her, slowly lowering his arm and reaching for the linen napkin that sat conveniently next to his left elbow. He wiped his sticky face on the napkin rather than his sleeve and gave her an almost blinding smile.

"Tanks, Ma." Oh, the little charmer! If anyone could get out of trouble by smiling and batting his eyelashes, it would be this little golden wolf in sheep's clothing.

"Hmm. Alright, go get dressed. I laid your clothes out on the trunk." Luca sprang from his seat, knowing that he had just barely gotten off scot-free, and shot out of the room, still trailing the blanket now wrapped tightly around one ankle. A stumble and a quiet thump was the only sound of his escape.

The plates were tidily stacked into the sink and Moira pulled back her hair, twisting it up and out of the way for the day. She was just tucking in the ends of the kerchief around her hair when Luca stumbled out of the back room, trying, in vain, to put his head through the armhole of his tunic. Moira rotated the shirt and tugged on the ends. Golden curls easily emerged – this time through the right hole – and Luca smiled up at her, flashing little pearls.

Moira returned his smile and reached down for his hand, ready to be off into town. She grimaced as his hand met hers, transferring _sticky_ onto her. She looked down at him and his grin was even wider, knowing that he had tricked her.

"You!" she laughed, reaching out to tickle him. Luca let out a happy shout and dashed out the door before she could get him, leaving a cloud of dust behind him as he charged down the lane from their house. Moira laughed outright, and ran after him, pausing only long enough to shut the door securely before she was chasing after him, calling "I'm going to get you for that!"

She managed to overtake her much younger brother before they reached the road, scooping him up into her arms and settling him on her shoulders. Moira walked the familiar path down into the main town of Bree, laughing as Luca reached for the early Chithing__buds on the trees that lined their path. She nodded to the gate watchman as they passed through the side door into the main street of town. Luca, feeling fearless, let go of Moira's head long enough to tap the top of the door twice – once for Moira and once for himself – for luck, they'd always say.

There was the usual light traffic of strangers moving through town, merchants and farmers, mostly, bringing their goods to sell along the road or to some of the more established stores of Bree. Luca rested his chin on Moira's head, yawning.

Spring was in the air. Little bulbs were beginning to flower, dotting the windows with light pinks, reds, and oranges. Small tufts of soft, green grass were peaking through the cracks of the town walls, adventuring further into the walled town that very much seemed to resent the small straggling soldiers of nature since they seemed constantly beaten down and torn at. Children would happily go out of their way to stomp upon them. The passing ponies and horses always managed to crop them almost into oblivion. But the grass was stubborn and by late summer would have inched their way throughout the entire town, bringing just a little touch of wild nature into the industrious trade town.

A craftsman or two sat out before their workshops, whittling and smoking, leaving the smell of pipe weed and pine hanging in the air around them. It had been a hard winter, but everything was falling right back into its natural place. Peace and quiet reigned in the hills, but here was a bustling town of industry and craftsmanship.

Moira nodded to those she knew as they passed and Luca waved energetically to all those they didn't, his tiredness completely forgotten as they were swallowed up in the bustle of town.

The tidy bakeshop sat on the corner of the busy road, already lively with early morning customers. The smoke from the fires floated lazily above their heads, smelling of fresh bread, giving the air a warm, heady scent. Just next to it was the shop Moira worked at, a common store dealing mostly in dry goods. It was decidedly less crowded than the bakery, at present, but would fill up throughout the day as their suppliers came to haggle prices on the goods they had to sell.

"Now, mind your manners," Moira said, lifting Luca off her shoulder and opening the shop door, letting Luca trot in ahead of her. He paid her no mind, running to the corner – _his_ corner – of the shop, passing by the wizened owner who manned the coin drawer. That is, he was _headed_ to the corner, but came to a sudden halt and changed direction, heading straight for the shop counter.

"Good morning, Master Luca," the elderly Hobbit said solemnly, bowing low behind the counter in a very practiced and dignified manner. Luca barely came up to his hip, but returned the bow, although somewhat awkwardly as he tried to hide his grin that was shining through his own regal manner.

"Good mowning, Mastwer Noats." The Hobbit smiled and nodded. Luca stretched up to his tippy toes and crossed his arms, resting his elbows on the counter, barely clearing the top, clearly expecting something.

"Good morning Master Noakes," Moira murmured, pulling and apron from a peg by the door, sliding it over her head and knotting the ties in the back.

Everard Noakes had owned this particular shop his entire life, it originally being built by his great grandfather, Gaffer Brockhouse of Bree. The little shop had been made to last through the ages, and last it did.

Moira turned to go into the back stock room, not missing the brightly wrapped sweet slide across the counter and disappear into Luca's waiting hand. She smiled to herself, gratitude and fondness for the elderly Hobbit almost overwhelming her. She had tried to repay him once after finding candy wrappers in her brother's pockets, but Master Noakes refused her outright, demanding that he had a right to spoil the boy as he chose, as his children were grown and grandchildren too far away to visit often. Now it had become something of a ritual and Luca held fast to it. Moira, many years ago, had something of a similar relationship with her own grandfather and so she didn't put a stop to it. She was almost relieved that Luca could be brought up well and experience childhood as she had, even though their circumstance had drastically changed.

Luca, satisfied with his Sterday greeting, popped the small, hard candy into his mouth and trotted off to his corner. The two scrubbing brushes and chips of wood were right where he left them the Hensday previous and he resumed his games with enthusiasm. Even in the other room, she could hear his happy shouts of "Fiwer!" and "Pepare to bowd!"

Today, Luca was a pirate.

The back stock room was warm and quiet, filtering out most of the noise from the street, but it could never block the voice of Luca. His play gave the shop a lighter air, more comfortable and less stifling. His game of pirates had started a few days earlier after an exceptional bedtime story – if she did say so herself – of how Peter Pan fought and defeated the pirates, cutting off the had of their captain and throwing it to the waiting crocodile below. Peter Pan was the one story Moira could reliably remember and retell to her younger brother. The other stories were too dull or filled with princesses for Luca to be distracted by them for long, but Peter Pan endured.

A new shipment of salted pork had come in as well as basic rough cloth not fine enough for the millinery or tailor. Moira went about sorting the barrels and folding the fabric, laying the latter aside to take out to the storefront. The logbook sat heavily on its shelf, its pages dog-eared and aged yellow, but remarkably it stood up year after year to constant use.

Moira logged the new items neatly, pausing only to count the barrels and listen to the gentle ring of the shop door. Master Noakes would take care of whoever it was. "Must be a customer," Moira noted with half a mind. She could hear the deep voice of the stranger and the clipped and efficient answers of Master Noakes, just as she always could with any customer, but the one thing she could not hear was Luca. This gave her pause as she straightened and pushed away from the table she sat at. Luca was never this quiet.

_Except for once._

Moira shook off the feeling of terror that came with the memory. Master Noakes was watching after him, after all. Luca could hardly get himself into any kind of trouble with the veteran Father guarding the storefront.

But it couldn't hurt to check in on him. Better safe than sorry, she told herself.

She quitted the back room with the new shipment of cloth hung over her arm. She'd just set them right, check on Luca, then return to inventorying the newest merchandise.

Luca was in his corner, just as she'd left him, but his game was forgotten as he stared at the stranger. He was tall and broad in the shoulders, long braids streaming down behind him. Not a Hobbit or a Man, but a Dwarf. The name seemed hardly fitting, as he was easily a head taller than Moira.

That had been one of the more difficult aspects of life to adjust to. Being small. In this new world where everything was larger than life, Moira found herself constantly at odds, battling against this new challenge. She wasn't half as intimidating as she had been now that those around her had grown to epic proportions, though she maintained a respectable height. As a Fallowhide, she was meant to be taller, she was told, though she was still not sure what people meant by that.

"Ah, Moira. Just the person I needed," Master Noakes called out as she made her presence known. It was strange to see the small Hobbit excited, but he fairly glowed and he smiled at her confused silence.

Moira cleared her throat, attempting to overcome her initial shock. No wonder Luca was standing like a statue in the corner. She, herself, felt like a child very much out of her element. "How may I help?" she managed to choke out, laying the fabric aside.

"Please, see to this gentleman here while I go looking for some of those old maps I have hidden away in the back room," he said, already moving past her, giving her an encouraging pat on the shoulder to get her moving. To the Dwarf "It'll only be a moment. I'm sure I know where I put them." And he was gone.

Moira eyed the stranger nervously, but moved forward to meet him at the counter. "How may I assist you today, Master Dwarf?"

"I'm in need of supplies."

She hesitated at the almost demanding tone, but caught herself, saying smoothly "We are very well stocked and if we do not have what you require, we may procure it from one of our vendors or show you to a shop better equipped to handle your needs."

He nodded, apparently satisfied with her answer and held out a piece of parchment detailing the goods he required. She took it, unrolling the alarmingly long list. Moira took a moment, hesitating over the words as she fumbled her way through the unfamiliar runes. She glanced up and flushed red when she discovered that he was still watching her, a small frown tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Moira cleared her throat, pushing back her panic at the strange words, and smiled at the Dwarf. "I'll see what I can do. Please, feel free to look around the shop in the meantime."

Good Lord! What had Master Noakes gotten her into? _"Don't panic. Panicking now will by no means help you."_ She turned away quickly, trying for the life of her to decipher the writing clutched in her hands. Some of the words she knew, and so Moira moved about the shop, hardly taking notice of the stranger or her little brother. All of her concentration was on that damned list.

Luca remained motionless in the corner, unabashedly staring at the Dwarf. Luca had never had much of a chance to see one. It's true that the odd vendor or traveler would move through Bree, usually headed to the larger Dwarf settlement in the Blue Mountains to the West, but few lingered for very long in the town among Men and Hobbits. The Dwarf in question stayed at the counter, not yet conscious of his audience.

Moira was finally gaining some ground on the list, placing each item on the counter as she went. Char cloth, a needle and thread, pipe tobacco –the expensive stuff, too– a whetstone, a pint of oil, hemp rope, and waybread. She was just about halfway through the list when she hit a snag. The waybread. It wasn't often asked after, as many travelers didn't have very much further to journey and would rather procure fresh loaves of sturdy bread from the bakery just next door. The waybread sat in crates atop a top shelf, easily in reach for a Man or even the Dwarf, but not for her.

She turned, intending to use the stool, but changed her mind as she saw her brother still openly staring at the Dwarf. That wouldn't do. Hadn't she told him that it was rude to stare? "Luca, can you help me for a moment?" He slowly pulled himself away, but his eyes remained locked on the Dwarf as he shuffled from out of the corner. Moira tried to suppress her grin at his shyness. Usually he was only too ready to help. "Come here, you," she said, grasping him under his arms and hoisting him up onto her shoulders.

The height seemed to pull him from his thoughts and he laughed as he was swung around to face the shelf. "You see that box way at the top of the shelf?"

"Yep," he replied, grabbing a fistful of her hair to remain steady, already reaching for it.

"Ow," Moira teased. Luca loosened, but did not relinquish, his death grip on her hair. His arm wobbled under the weight of the box as he slid it down to and then over the edge of the shelf. Moira had her arms raised to catch it, not fully trusting her brother to be able to bear the weight. She steadied the two of them, box safely in her arms and walked back over to the counter where the Dwarf was waiting.

He hid it well, but there was a smile, however small, tugging at the corners of his lips. Moira smiled as she lifted Luca from her shoulders, depositing him on the counter along with the waybread. She returned to the hunt with the fire of victory coursing through her. Her size, while a nuisance, would not hold her back.

Luca froze on the counter, now more in awe of the stranger due to their close proximity. The Dwarf, bless him, turned to Moira's blond angle and asked "Would you like to see a magic trick?" His voice was soft and low in the tranquil quiet of the shop. Moira wasn't surprised when Luca eagerly assented, even more in awe than he had been before. She paused in her collecting, watching bemusedly from the side. The Dwarf took a deep breath, resting his hand in front of Luca, pinching at the joint of his left index finger. Slowly, he drew the tip of his finger away from the rest of his hand, sliding the top half of his finger back and forth, completely unattached to the thumb it belonged to.

Moira couldn't help the laugh that broke free. She knew this magic trick, but it had been such a long time since she had seen it. It had been a favorite of her grandfather's and she'd demand to see it over and over again, closely scrutinizing the hands, intent on discovering the secret for herself. Oh, how long ago was it? She must've been Luca's age, give or take a year. It was on her fifth birthday that her grandfather finally took her into his lap and showed her how to do it herself. A small part of her ached as she watched her brother incredulously order the stranger to do it again. Luca never met their grandfather.

She turned away, pulling another parcel off of the shelf. It was no good dwelling on things that she could not change.

Luca gasped and Moira glanced over to the pair. The Dwarf's thumbs were on backwards. Both hands were in fists in front of him, the thumbs touching the knuckles of his index fingers and then pressed down flat, making it seem that they were completely rotated. Luca's small hands danced over his much larger and darker hands, trying to understand. Luca asked very seriously, in almost a whisper "Aw you a Piwate?"

Moira nearly dropped the packages she was ferrying across to the counter, choking on either a gasp of surprise or a laugh. The Dwarf seemed stunned. Was he a Pirate? Where did Luca come up with these crazy questions? A wizard would have made more sense, but a pirate? They were saved by the return of Master Noakes who swept into the room victoriously brandishing a roll of old maps.

"I knew I still had them," he said, beaming up at the Dwarf. "Now, you were asking about Hobbiton?"

"Yes. I'm looking for a Mr. Baggins and I was told he resided there."

"Baggins… not the Sackville-Bagginses? No…" Master Noakes bent over the map running his finger over the well-aged parchment. "Baggins. Ah! Here it is. Bag End. Yes, this is it." Master Noakes traced the road from Bree into Hobbiton, noting important turns and pathways. "It's a few days journey from here, but I have never made the trip myself. Moira, will you join us?"

Moira abandoned the last item on the list and joined the pair waiting patiently for her at the counter. "You've journeyed through Hobbiton, I believe? When you first came to Bree from Needlehole, you must have passed through that area."

"Oh, well it was a long time ago and I hardly remember the trip," she said, lifting Luca off of the counter.

That was a lie.

Oh, how she remembered that journey through the dark, soaked to the bone, lost, and terrified with her baby brother clutched in her arms. Alone and hungry, she had wandered through Rushock Bog for two days before spilling out onto the grassy banks by The Water, not knowing whether it was all a dream or a terrible reality. That was when Andy found them.

"Well, that's the best guess I have. Follow the road until Bywater and then journey North."

"My thanks," the stranger replied, leaning over the map to trace his route over the parchment, committing it to memory. He exchanged coin for goods and Moira, aided by the enthusiastic Luca, began toting the packages out to the Dwarf's string of ponies waiting just outside the store.

"She's a good girl," Master Noakes sighed, falling back onto a stool, "and she does right by that boy of hers."

"They are alone?" The Dwarf turned to watch the girl and blonde child pack away his goods.

"Yes. Her husband, Andwise Bottlebrook, Valar rest him, passed last fall, just before the frosts set in. He got too close to the edge of the river and, well... Hobbits have no business being around the water. She found him, poor lass. Now it's just the two of them."

Conversation stilled as Moira and Luca reentered the shop, but resumed once the door shut behind them as they left the shop once more, arms full of parcels.

"Has she no other family?"

"None that she spoke of. There was a brother in law who came up around the time of the funeral and stayed with them through winter, but he left when spring came around. Wanted to take her and the little one East with him, but she decided to stay rather than risk the journey over the mountains, not that I blame her. The wild is no place for us gentle folk."

"And so he abandoned them?"

"Don't you worry, Master Oakenshield. They're well looked after. They won't go hungry, not while I'm around and I'm sure their neighbors do what they can for them."

"You are a generous man." Master Noakes smiled and waved away the compliment.

The store bell tinkled as Moira pushed her way through. "A safe journey, Thorin Oakenshield." Master Noakes said, bowing low. The Dwarf inclined his head, taking his leave of them. He paused, briefly ruffling Luca's golden curls, before he swept out of the store and disappeared in the bustle of the street.

"You know him?" Moira asked, looking through the window long after this 'Thorin Oakenshield' had passed from sight.

"He comes through Bree from time to time. A very honorable Dwarf and an excellent craftsman, though he was born to greater purpose. I met him a great number of years ago, when I myself was just a lad and his people traveled and traded with Men more than they do now. Ah, but that was a long time ago indeed. Have you finished inventorying the new goods?"

"Not quite. I still have the kegs to check and then the char cloth to cut and stack. Oh, and I should go and order another batch of waybread before I forget. Your friend bought the lot."

"Oh, I'll do that. It's been too long since I had something in my hands to work on. I'm going to become an idle, old Hobbit, mark my words, but today I think I'll just pretend that I'm not that old yet."

Moira hesitated, but knew better than to argue. He would be stubborn to the end, though both of them knew that he would be tired and stiff after finishing the log. "I'll just put on some tea, then. It'll be good for both of us."

Master Noakes nodded and moved around the counter, patting her on the shoulder. "You're a good girl."

Moira waited for the old Hobbit to disappear behind the tapestry before putting on a pot of tea.

"Ma, was he a piewit?" Moira turned and smiled at her brother who was paused in his game.

"You know, I think he _was_ a pirate!"

"Wealy?" Luca dropped his scrubbing brush ship.

"Didn't you see the way his hands were on backwards?! I think he was _Noodler1._" Luca's eyes grew wide.

"Noodwer?" He seemed lost in thought for a moment, comparing the Dwarf he had just met with the character of his favorite bedtime story. Luca looked up solemnly at her. "Dat _was_ him," he whispered.

Moira crouched down in front of Luca. "I bet the other pirates are out there right now."

"But dey won't come hew betuz, betuz," he was searching for the reason, "betuz, I'm Petew Pan!" he exclaimed triumphantly.

"I bet they're all running away right now because they know that Peter Pan is guarding the shop."

"Yeah!" he agreed, picking up his 'boat' again and resuming his game enthusiastically.

"So long as you're here, nothing bad can happen," Moira murmured, kissing the top of his head.

She straightened slowly and stretched, looking over the shop. The maps were strewn across the counter, a few of them only inches away from breaking free from the pile. She couldn't leave them like that. The map of the Shire was resting atop the others, but just under it was a map she had often looked at since John had left them in the spring.

She shuffled the maps, tracing the route he had shown her. East. Always East. Up over the mountains, through the forest, along the river, past the town on the lake, and then just a little bit further, to the settlement in the shadow of the single mountainous peak. That's where they were gathering. Part of her wished that she had left with John when she'd had the chance. On the map, it looked like a short journey, but part of her knew that was wrong. What once seemed like an easy distance was now a large and dangerous undertaking even with a pony, which they didn't have nor could afford. On foot, the stretch over the mountains could quite possibly take her months and in the meantime, the clouds would gather and the cold would creep back in. They would be caught in winter before they reached the wood and even then, she was not sure that she wanted to make it that far. Strange stories about the forest reached as far as Bree. Mirkwood. The endless path through dark and the strange creatures that lived there. No, she could not make the journey alone.

But she couldn't wait for John to come back, as he had promised.

Their savings were almost gone, though she devoutly stretched each coin as far as it could reach. It just wasn't enough and she could no longer trust herself to the charity of her neighbors. It had been a hard winter and many of the families that endeavored to support them were suffering and she could not bear to take more from them. She would have to see Luca and herself right. They would have to leave.

For better or worse, they would cross over the mountains.

_**Chithing **__**is the month – as created by Tolkien for the people of Bree – that spans from March 23**__**rd**__** to the April 21.**__**st **__** - E**__**ncyclopedia of Arda**__** by Mark Fisher**_

_**Sterday: The Hobbit equivalent to our Monday. "Sterday corresponds more nearly to our Monday and Thursday (Mersday) to our Saturday" – Appendix D**_

_**Hensday: The Hobbit equivalent of our Friday – Appendix D**_

_**Noodler is a minor character in J. M. Barrie's Peter Pan**_

1


	2. Chapter 2

**Here's the next chapter and I hope you enjoy it. Big thanks to Wrmauney for reviewing and letting me know how I'm doing. I know that you guys are out there, so tell me what you think is going on. Wrmauney nailed the fact that Moira is a hobbit, so what else is going on? Most of this narrative is coming from Moira, so what is she leaving out and why? Tell me what you're thinking. Theories help me know what I'll do in future chapters to make it interesting, so send me a note.**

"And you're sure about this, my dear? You won't wait until next spring."

Moira smiled gently, taking the old Hobbit's hands in hers. "It cannot wait," she said gently. "It's time for us to move on. We've been too much of a burden for far too long and I cannot continue to take without giving in my own turn." Her throat tightened, but she pushed past it. "You have been so kind to us, Master Noakes, and I do not know how to repay you. You took us in when Andwise, when he…" she took a breath to steady herself. She didn't want to talk about Andy. "You have been more of a…" Tears were welling in her eyes, she just knew it, but she had to thank him somehow, to let him know how much he meant to her.

"A safe journey, then," he said gently, squeezing her hand. She nodded, smiling despite herself. "Something to remember me by," he said, pressing a rough wooden box into her hands. "No, don't you deny me this," he said, pressing it more firmly into her hands as she hesitated. "I reserve the right to spoil you and I want to know that you and your boy eat well as you pass through such uncivilized lands. Please. Let me give this last kindness."

Everard Noakes was not a hugger; it just didn't seem to be in him. He had rather show his love through small acts of kindness, little gifts, a comforting word. Not hugs, but he did not pull away when Moira buried her face in his shoulder and hugged him, just needing to thank him in all the ways words could never fully capture. He hesitated, but his hand came to pat her on the back, although somewhat awkwardly. "Thank you," she breathed into his coat collar, "for everything."

He cleared his throat gruffly. "Best be on your way if you hope to reach Midgewater by dusk."

Moira pulled away, wiping under her eyes to check for any stray tears. Now was not the time. Luca was watching. She slung her heavy pack onto her shoulders, tightening a strap here, securing a tool there. She cleared her throat. "Ready for an adventure, Luca?" Luca nodded enthusiastically, reaching up to take her hand.

"A bid adventour!" he said, practically jumping out of his boots with excitement. Moira smiled down at him, tightening her grip on his hand and began walking out of the gates of Bree, laughing as Luca turned around every few feet to wave at Master Noakes who stood as a sentinel before the gates. "Adventour, adventour!"

"An awfully big adventure."

And that was it. The only home she had in this world, the only home Luca would remember, was gone. But—she smiled to herself, sweeping a hand through Luca's curls in the soft morning light—so long as they were together, nothing bad could happen. And nothing would ever change that.

"Wherw we doeing, Ma?" Luca asked, looking up at her. God, he was the most beautiful thing imaginable.

"First we go _along_ the road and then _over_ the mountains," she said, swinging Luca onto her shoulders at the mention of the mountains, "and then _through_ the forest, _across _the lake, and then—"

"Da, da, da town!" he shouted, thumping the top of her head with soft fists.

"Yes," she smiled, catching his hands. "And then the town." Home, or at least it would be. She hoped it would be. John had said that this was the best way to go, but now she wasn't quite sure. With the full weight of her decision and Luca resting on her shoulders, literally, she felt, well, not unsure, but not completely certain either. It wasn't a feeling she was used to. For the past year, everything had been black and white and she had done everything she could in order to protect Luca, but now… Was she really making the right choice? Was this a risk she could afford to take, especially with Luca? Risking his life in order to be closer with others like them.

"Do you dink the'w be piwates dare?" Luca asked suddenly, leaning over Moira's head to look her in the eyes.

"Pirates, hmm," Moira said, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "You know, I think there could be!"

"Yeah! The'w be, the'w be, _tons_ of piwates! But dey can't, dey can't get us betuz I'w fight dem!" Luca said excitedly. "I'w fwy around da ships and, _BWOOM!_" He spread his arms out, making play at flying.

"Yeah, Luca. You'd get them."

"Betuz I tan fwy!"

Her gut clenched painfully, but she kept her smile in place. "Oh, you can fly, can you?" Moira asked, reaching up to grip Luca under his arms. "Lets see how fast you can fly!"

She lifted him free of her shoulders and swung him in arc above her head, Luca whooping and cheering "fastew, fastew, fastew!" dissolving into giggles.

"You're getting so big. Soon I won't be able to pick you up. You'll be even bigger than me!"

"Oh no! Piwate ship!" Luca cried.

"Oh no!" Moria exclaimed. "They're shooting at you! Time to come in for a landing." Moira panted, swinging him one more time before lowering Luca gently to the ground, trying to catch her breath.

"Don't wowy, I'w get dem!" Luca shouted, taking off down the road as fast as his little legs could carry him.

"Luca," Moira laughed, bracing her hands on her hips, "Luca, slow down."

But he wasn't listening. He got to the top of the hill and looked down at her, calling back "Tum on! We got to tach dem!"

Moira sped up just a bit, just to make sure that he would stay in her sight. "Luca, now remember. No running off. You need to stay with me."

"Why?" Luca asked over his shoulder as he trotted a few feet ahead of her.

"Why?" Moira repeated, mulling her answer over in her head. "Well, if you're too far away, how will you save me if the pirates come back?"

"Oh," Luca said seriously, pausing just long enough for Moira to be a step behind him before he began walking, this time at a slower pace, pausing every now and again to look back and make sure that Moira was still there. "Dat would be bad," he said quietly after a few minutes.

"Yeah," she sighed, not quite paying attention. She hefted the heavy pack higher up her back. God, she was already feeling tired and they hadn't even gone very far. Luca was lagging a little now, the early morning wake-up catching up with him. What she didn't see was his smile drop completely to be replaced with a contemplative frown, his blue eyes missing their merry sparkle.

"Betuz, den I would be, I would be-"

"You would be?" Moira asked, coming back to her senses. Luca snuffled and Moira's stomach dropped. God, she had made him cry. Her beautiful, sweet little brother was crying because of her. Because she was too busy worrying about herself. "Hey, hey. It's okay, Luca," she cooed softly, kneeling down to his height and drawing him into her arms. "What's the matter?"

He wrapped his arms around her neck and buried himself in her coat collar. "Betuz den I would be awone," he sobbed, tightening his arms around her neck. Moira was shocked into silence as the words sunk in.

Because he would be alone.

She would leave him all alone.

She would abandon him.

Her arms tightened unconsciously around him at the thought. "Luca, I would _never_ leave you," she whispered, resting her cheek on his head. "Never."

"Not even if dere wuwre piwates?" he asked, hiccupping.

"Not even if there were pirates," she murmured, squeezing him.

He seemed to think that over for a moment as he stood nestled into Moira's coat. "Pwomise?" he asked, holding out his pinky.

Moira smiled and caught his pinky with hers. "I promise." Luca nodded against her shoulder, content with her answer, but he wouldn't let her go. Moira didn't much feel like letting him go either.

She hefted him into her arms and began walking again, Luca resting his head against her collarbone, letting go of her with one arm to swipe at his eyes and—she grimaced—his nose before holding onto her again. She carried him until her arms were numb and kept carrying him, his words haunting her.

"Ma," Luca said, tugging at her hair when she didn't respond. "Ma?"

"Hm?" she asked, looking down at him.

"I tink someone's tumming," he said, pointing over her shoulder to the road behind them. Moira turned, readjusting her grip on Luca. Sure enough, there was a cart coming up behind them, bumping along the road.

Moira paused at the side of the road and put Luca down, but he kept a hold of her skirt. She rested and hand on the top of his head and gave him an encouraging smile. "We're in luck! Maybe they'll give us a ride."

"Weally?" he asked, looking up at her.

"Maybe, if we ask nicely," she said, watching as the cart drew up beside them.

"Going East?" the man called down from the cart.

"Yes," Moira answered, having to look up to see the man's face. "To Midgewater."

"Midgewater," he whistled. "Don't see many Hobbits going further than Bree," he said, looking them over. "Well, there's plenty of room in the cart if you an' your boy'd like a lift."

"We're in your debt, sir," Moira said, walking towards him, Luca trailing just behind her. Moira lifted Luca onto the cart and pulled herself after him, settling on the seat next to the man. Luca climbed up into her lap, a little shy, but the merry twinkle back in his eye.

The cart lurched forward and Luca giggle as they bounced across the road. This had to be his first time riding in a cart, Moira realized with a smile. They had never left Bree and had walked the entire way from Rushock Bog when—when Andy had found them.

"And what do they call you, Lady Hobbit?" the man asked conversationally, looking out over the road.

"I'm called Moira, and this is Luca," she said, bouncing Luca on her knee.

"Pleased to meet you," he said, looking over at them, smiling a toothy grin at Luca. "They call me Rube Tiller." The name fit him, but she wasn't sure why. He was broad shouldered and as tall as a mountain—more of a giant, really, than a Man—with a full, bristling brown beard with fine streaks of silver creeping in.

"So Midgewater. That's a fair distance to travel. What brings you up into these parts?"

"Um," Moira said, searching for a reason, a little panicked. "We're … we're visiting family."

"Family?" the man said, thoughtfully. "Didn't think there were no Hobbits in Midgewater, 'cept of course for Ol' Delbert. You related to him?" he asked, smiling at them.

"Oh, no," Moira said quickly. "They're a bit further East than Midgewater."

"Ah, tha's a shame," he said, shaking his head. "Would've been nice if you were family o' his. Ol' Del hasn't had company in a long while." Conversation lulled and Moira fidgeted uncomfortably, searching for a new topic of conversation.

"Tiller?" she asked, remembering his last name. "So, you're a farmer?"

"Uh hm. Been a farmer all my life. My wife an' I are set up pretty just a mile or two from Midgwater. Took us a good long while to build, our farm did. Now wi' spring on the way an' the barley sown, we'll be lookin' for hands to help us bring in the crop. That's why I'm out here, see. I just met with a ol' friend of mine up in Bree tha' has hands to spare."

Moira listened quietly, nodding her head when he looked at her. "The fields in Bree were planted early, I heard," she said conversationally, adding, in one sentence, her entire knowledge of agriculture.

"That they were. Almost unheard of in these parts, but they got a touch o' the warm weather 'fore the rest of us," he said, running his hand through his beard. "Seems like th' further East you go, th' worse th' weather. Haven't heard a peep from Tobias. He farms along th' woods by th' wilds, but then again, him and his weren't much of a trading kind of people. Only ever came into town a few times, mostly in th' spring to sell off what they weren't needin.'"

With the initial shock of his first wagon ride wearing off, Luca yawned and rubbed at his eyes blearily. Moira ran her fingers through his hair gently, watching as the swaying of the cart carried him off to sleep. Rube Tiller must've noticed as well because his voice got quieter, though never quite stopped, as they bumped further down the road.

They ate a midday meal on the cart, passing around dried apple slices and some of the traveling bread Moira had bought just before leaving Bree. Luca, refreshed from his nap, was as energetic as ever, constantly keeping up a stream of questions for the farmer who enthusiastically answered each one.

The sun was setting by the time the warm glow of Midgewater came into view. "Why don't you and yer boy stay with us tonigh'?" Rube Tiller invited, pulling his cart to a stop in front of a small house and barn. " 'm sure the Misses would be more'n happy to put you up for th' night."

"Oh," Moira said, momentarily stunned by the offer. "That's very kind, but we couldn't impose. I'm sure there are some good inns in Midgewater." It would be nice not to have to carry the sleepy, and soon to be grumpy, Luca into town.

"Yes, there are plenty of fine places there in town," he said, nodding, "but why spend yer money when you don't have to? It'd be no bother. We don't have any rooms, but the barn is dry an' warm here in the spring-time."

Moira hesitated, but the whining sound coming from Luca made up her mind. "Thank you. A place to stay would be most welcome." Rube nodded, satisfied, and began caring for the horse, waving Moira and Luca towards the barn. Moira shouldered her pack and gently shifted Luca so that she could comfortably carry him.

The barn was warm and dim inside, quiet except for the soft sound of a few oxen. Moira spotted the ladder to the hayloft and moved towards it, gently shaking Luca awake and putting him down. Luca awoke reluctantly and swayed on his feet, but moved up the ladder in front of him. Moira followed just a step behind him, keeping a hand on Luca's back the entire time.

He pulled himself over the edge of the hayloft and flopped down on the straw. Moira untied their blankets from the pack and spread one over the hay, the other set aside to be used as a blanket. She helped Luca into his nightshirt before dressing for bed, herself, and tucked him in, covering him with both the blanket and her coat. He would probably need it. The nights were still a bit cold.

"Ma?" he asked blearily, cuddling into her. "Stowy?"

"Not tonight, Luca," Moira murmured, shifting so that Luca could curl into a more comfortable position against her.

"Pweeeeease?" he asked, looking up at her.

How could she say no to him? Her eyes were burning with tiredness and she could already feel her muscles stiffening in the cool night air, but she forced her tired mind to wander over the stories she knew. "Just one." She could just see Luca's victorious grin through the back of his head. "How about when Peter challenged the lions?"

"No," Luca said dismissively. "I want da badinning."

Moira sighed, "You want the first time Wendy met Peter Pan?" Luca nodded and her head throbbed, but she cleared her throat and began with the only part of the story she knew by heart. "All children, except one, grow up."1

"It happened on the quiet street of Blomsbury, at the home of the Darling family. And Peter Pan chose this particular house because there were people there who believed in him. There was Mrs. Darling and Mr. Darling and their three children, Wendy, John, and Michael. John and Michael, believed Peter Pan was a real person and made him the hero of all their nursery games. Wendy, the eldest, not only believed, she was the supreme authority on Peter Pan and all his marvelous adventures. Nana, the nursemaid, being a dog, kept her opinions to herself and viewed the whole affair with a certain tolerance."

"One night, after the children were in bed, Peter came visiting. He crawled through the nursery window, but before he could get up to any mischief, Nana came in from her evening out. She chased Peter out the open window, barking after him. The children awoke just in time to see the boy disappear out the window. They ran down to the courtyard, but there was no body or sign of the strange boy they had seen."

"Betuz, Betuz he fwew away," Luca reminded her.

Her heart sank. "Yes. Because he flew away." Peter flew away, but they— It hurt too much to think on. "Peter flew away, but Luca, you know that we can't fly, don't you?" Moira asked softly, resting her chin on his head. "Don't you?"

"Da," Luca said excitedly, "betuz we need fawey dust to fwy!" he said, twisting up to look at her.

Moira tried to smile, but it felt stretched. She cleared her throat and continued the story. "The children went back up to the nursery, and what did they find?"

"Da, Da sadow," Luca yawned, rubbing blearily at his eyes.

"Yes, the shadow. In her mouth, Nana held Peter's shadow that he had left behind in his hurry to get away. Wendy took the shadow from Nana and put it away carefully in a drawer, so that she could find it if the boy came back." Moira trailed off, waiting for Luca to beg her to go on, but Luca was silent. He'd drifted off.

She lay in the hayloft, waiting for sleep to claim her, but the story had brought up so many things she didn't want to remember. "Luca," she whispered softly, so as not to wake him, "people can't fly." A tear slid down her cheek and she wiped it away, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Not even if they're Peter Pan."

Moira tucked the blanket in around Luca more securely before she laid back, listening to the night and Luca's deep, even breathing before allowing herself to drift to sleep, rubbing small circles on the back of his soft hand.

Dawn came too early, as it usually does before a difficult day. Moira moaned, giving in, just for a moment, to tiredness and regret. Luca rolled over, taking the fragment of blanket Moira had kept for herself with him. The early morning was crisp and Moira jumped from foot to foot, pulling on her dress over her smock from the day before. The hem was coming loose—she'd have to mend it later—but it was still clean.

As quietly as she could, Moira began packing their things, leaving Luca to sleep for just a bit longer, but all too soon, she knew she'd have to wake him. She carried the pack down to the ground floor of the barn before returning to the loft, wrapping the still sleeping Luca in the blankets and piggybacking him down the ladder. He grumbled some, but remained limp in her arms, half asleep, half awake. He was a ragdoll and certainly didn't make dressing him easy, but by some small miracle, she managed it. Moira transferred him in front of herself before wriggling into the pack and stepping out of the barn into the gray morning light.

The farmyard was quiet and no light came from the house. Moira silently thanked Rube before beginning her march again along the road, Luca dozing against her shoulder.

All too soon, the pale dawn light became brighter and warmer as it rose into the sky. Midgewater loomed before them, a small town, still asleep save for the forge fires and the tired boys tending to them. Moira moved quickly through the streets, not interested in waiting for the shops to open. By the time the town was beginning to come alive, Moira and Luca were half a mile down the road, chewing on corn cakes while they walked. Luca, bless him, stayed close, keeping a cautionary grip on the edge of her skirt. He still didn't seem quite himself, but trotted along quietly, pausing every few minutes to watch a cart bump past them or a bug crawl lazily across the road.

It was in to the ninth day of their journey when the dreaded question was finally asked.

"Ma, aw we dere yet?"

Moira chuckled, looking back at Luca who was beginning to lag behind again. "Not yet," she said, trying to keep her voice happy and her own anxiety suppressed. If she were being honest with herself, she would have admitted that she was tired too. Her feet ached and the skin of her heel was cracked and bleeding. So much for the thick soles of Hobbit feet. "But we're almost there," she added when she saw his face beginning to twist into a pout.

He brightened at the thought, but all too soon, he asked her again "Aw we dere _yet_?"

Moira took a deep breath, looking around at the trees around them. They had passed over the last bridge and into the Trollshaws just that morning, but already the new environment had lost its charm for her brother.

"_Maaa_?" Luca whined loudly, beginning to drag his feet, kicking up great puffs of dirt into the air.

"Luca," Moira said quickly, dropping down to her knee in front of him. "Hush." She didn't mean to be so stern, but something about the woods bothered her. Scared her. They were too quiet during day and even more so at night, as if the animals had fled. She just wanted to get them though as quickly as possible, making as little noise as they could.

She lifted Luca into her arms and began walking at a faster pace than before, checking over her shoulder every few moments to make sure that nothing was following behind them. Stalking them.

Luca didn't seem to have her fear of the forest. Instead, her wriggled in her arms, whining until Moira thought that the whole forest could hear him. "Luca, we have to be quiet."

"Why?" he moaned.

"Because we're in the forest," Moira said, an idea beginning to form, "and do you know who lives in the forest?"

"Who?" Luca asked, stilling in her arms.

"Indians!" Moira whispered, looking around at the trees.

"Indains?!" Luca shouted before clapping his hands over his mouth.

"Yes," she said quietly, lifting him higher onto her hip. "You know, this reminds me of the first time Wendy and John and Michael went to Neverland. The Lost Boys went out walking to look for Peter, but they didn't know that the pirates were out looking for them!"

"No!" Luca gasped.

"Yes! The Lost Boys were out looking for Peter, the pirates were out looking for the Lost Boys, the redskins were out looking for the pirates, and the beasts were out looking for the redskins. They were going round and round the island, but they never met because they were walking at the same speed!"2

"But den, but den dat means," Luca whispered, looking up at Moira.

A howl split the air.

Long, bone chilling, and too close. Luca's arms snapped around Moira's neck and her heart leapt into her throat. Her long strides became a frantic run as she raced down the road, fear stifling all but her most primal instincts. She didn't – couldn't – look back as she ran down the road.

Another howl rang through the woods, joined by three answering calls. Luca buried his head in her coat collar as she ran around another bend in the road. The sounds were getting closer, louder, and she shuddered.

Moira had heard stories of wolves before, packs roaming the northern wastelands during winter, but nothing had prepared her for this. He legs shook and her lungs ached as she vaulted over a fallen log and off the main road. Wolves shouldn't be in the lowlands in spring. Wolves shouldn't hunt people.

There was a tree just ahead that had branches low enough for her to reach. She could hear the heavy breathing of the wolves now, but she would not look back. She reached the tree and lifted Luca onto the highest branch that she could reach before pulling herself up after him. She lifted them higher and higher into the tree, not stopping until she was afraid that the branches would not bear their weight. Only then did she pause to catch her breath and look down at the forest floor below.

She could see shadows moving past the tree's base and she could hear them, but what frightened her most was the sound of harsh voices calling out to one another.

It wasn't just wolves.

Moira held her breath as the pack circled the tree once, twice, and then were gone. God bless their luck. They were not the ones being hunted.

But someone else must be.

Moira pushed the thought aside. It would not do to dwell on matters beyond her control, but she hesitated. She was not yet so hardened by burden that she would not hope for the wellbeing of others, though strangers they may be.

Please, let whoever they are escape.

**Hope you liked the chapter. Tell me what you think if you have a moment! Hopefully I'll have the next chapter up more quickly, but I'm going back to college in a week, so who knows what will happen. I promise the Dwarves will be in the next chapter. I just really needed to set up Moira, Luca and their back-story before delving into the characterization of Thorin's Company.**

**1**** "All children, except on, grow up." This is taken from the first line of J.M. Barrie's **_**Peter Pan.**_

**2**** Quote taken from chapter 5 of **_**Peter Pan.**_

**The bedtime story cobbled together from the Disney, live action, and book with my own paraphrasing. If anyone is interested in what belongs to which version, send me a message. **


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